Level Crossing
by Verysaggyladies
Summary: A story about one of the Railroads most efficient agents; and how the notorious sole survivor ruins her contentment every step of the way.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello all and this be** FloodFeSTeR **and** TehKinkehWalrus **on a brand-spankin-new joint account ;)**_

 _drug abuse, evil behavior, perhaps explicit sexual content (but that will be saved for AO3 probably for guidelines here), a shit ton of OC's, ghoul love, synth love (lots of love, okay?) and an evil Sole Survivor._

 ** _Please do enjoy, and review. I know you shouldn't beg for reviews and base your writing around it but its nice to see people are enjoying this and we're not just posting to an empty stage, ya know? We like our story, yes, but we wanna know you do as well so show some love folks 3_**

* * *

She remembers just scavenging with her brother, just a small girl following her big brother's footsteps as they looked for copper or aluminum, whatever sold for the most. She remembers being little when her brother had found a boutique with fancy little girls' clothes and he had let her try some on, take what she wanted, despite knowing she'd lose it in the weeks to come.

Now she knows how her brother felt waiting for her to pick the right outfit, only he had more patience and found it endearing.

"Hey, what about this? It just screams me right," Deacon held up a crimson colored dress, bedazzled with sequins to his broad torso.

She peered from beneath her bangs that had fallen loose from her bun, watching him hold it at the tip and sway his hips a bit for effect. His eyebrows bobbed above the rim of his sunglasses as he did so and she couldn't help but chuckle.

"Actually I think the blue one really makes your sunglasses pop, ya know," Rose plopped on the filthy countertop, tugging her caramel strands from their bun to brush against the small of her back. She had a small headache from having such heavy hair up for so long and when the thick strands began to fall, pain pricked at her scalp.

She winced and leaned over, grabbing an old baseball uniform to wipe the blood from her machete; before Deacon and she could begin shopping they first had to take out a squad of raiders who had been taken up in the old clothing store.

The place reeked of Jet fumes and the rot from the bloody boxes upstairs, bodies decorating the front door like morbid welcome mats. It had been quite the little nest, but they had grown swollen with smugness at having so many numbers that they got just a little too fucked up to fight properly and she and Deacon had an easy time with them.

"C'mon, I need your help finding a new jacket. Something farm-y, nothing that stands out too much," Deacon wrinkled his nose.

As he continued to look through heaps of discarded clothing, Rose slid her freshly polished melee weapon into its spot on her belt. She needed to get the caps for a sheath, the thing had already cut through two pairs of pants in the past three days alone. She sputtered when a musty green shirt hit her in the face and swatted it away, glaring at Deacon as she unwound her old hair tie from her wrist.

"We passed at least six dead farmers on our way here, I don't see why those weren't farm-y enough," She mocked as she began tossing clothes across the store that didn't match Deacon's description.

"Oh yes. I often vision myself walking around in a dead-man's jacket. I'm sure it doesn't come with a heaping load of bad juju," he makes his way to a different stack of thrown together fabric.

Before Rose had time to think of something snarky to reply with she heard the pin being pulled from a grenade and tossed down the stair. It bobbed to a stop against the wall and her heart spiked. "Grenade!" She warned, reaching for her machete. Adrenaline immediately began pumping through her veins and began running for her comrade before a vast explosion swept her off of her feet, throwing her into an adjacent bookshelf.

Despite her shoulder taking the majority of the blow, she hit her head hard enough to immediately lose consciousness. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped over, several books coming down on top of her and partially covering her.

"Shit!" Deacon exclaimed, watching as his teammate flew through the air. He rushed to her side, pushing aside the books to search for a pulse in her neck. Once he felt a faint throbbing in her neck he grabbed the nearest t-shirt to wrap around her bleeding head injury before turning to face a lanky man with patchy red hair and thrown together armor holding a gun inches from his face. He had a leer on his face as he swayed on his feet, high on something but Deacon knew he couldn't do shit; his gun was still over by his first box of clothes.

"Hands up asshole," the scum demanded, gesturing with a jerk of his gun towards the ceiling Deacon raised his hands just passed his shoulders, evaluating the extent of the situation and looking for a way out. There wasn't, without leaving Rose and he couldn't do that; he could, he really could, he had in the past. But this was the present.

"One wrong move and I'll put a bullet in her fucking skull," the raider threatened, aiming the gun at the unconscious girl next to him. "Get up now."

Deacon stood up with a nasty look spread across his face, glancing at Rose before returning his gaze back to the drugged out fucker with his gun. He was rotting away on his feet, that much was obvious, probably from radiation; he was turning into a ghoul, how gross.

"Get walking, now," the ginger haired menace held a gun to Deacon's back, forcing him to walk towards the stairs. "And don't worry, I'll be back for your little girlfriend."

"You better watch your ass," Deacon threatened through clenched teeth.

"What? I'm sorry, you might want to be more polite. My finger might just slip," the raider laughed morbidly before pushing the gun deeper into his back, making him speed up.

With each step the two men took the gun seemed to dig deeper and deeper into Deacon's back, bringing adrenaline into his blood and making him slightly wobbly on his feet. Seriously, he could just run, jump out the broken window to his right and be home free. He could make the drop, he had so many times, but no, no he didn't once even glance at the window again.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, the raider guided him into a small room, with a couple of floor mattresses, broken beer bottles, and a barely functioning ham radio; Travis stuttered on the other end, saying something about the Brotherhood being attacked.

"Knees. Now," the raider spoke roughly pressing the gun to the side of Deacon's head, slightly skewing his wig.

"Yes daddy," he flirted, not being able to pass up the chance to turn a bad situation into a dirty joke. Before he could smirk the raider's fist came flying down, colliding with his jaw, nearly cracking it open. He gasped and hit the floor, bracing his hands against beer scented wood. He shook his head softly, trying to get rid of some of the pain splintering and dying in the base of his skull. His vision swam for a moment, eyes blinking away the haze easily.

"Don't tempt me, boy," the raider huffed.

"Shit," Deacon mumbled under his breath, moving around his jaw to make sure it was still intact. "Worth it," he whispered quietly so his captor couldn't hear.

As the raider continued to glare and hold the rusty 10mm pistol to Deacon's head, he picked up the mic to the orange HAM radio on the desk. His eyes didn't leave Deacon, pupils so large they swallowed almost all of the color in his eyes.

"This is Clinton, anyone there," as static filled the air as Deacon began to chuckle, catching Clinton's eye.

"Something funny asshole?"

"Yeah actually, what the hell kind of name is Clinton? You totally just lost the fear factor dude," as another laugh escaped his lips Clinton's face turned red with rage.

"Last mistake-" The red headed raider was cut off when Deacon grabbed his ankle and pulled it out from under him, causing him to fall back and drop the gun.

Deacon scrambled to his feet, helping when he felt fat fingers grasping at his legs and then he was the one to hit the floor. His fingers brushed just shy of the gun and he dug his nails into the wood, kicking back with his free leg. He made contact with flesh enough to feel good and ten kicked against the floor, pushing enough to reach the gun at last.

"Not binding my hands? Rookie mistake," Deacon snapped before he twisted back and fired three times into the man's head.

"Huh," he murmured as the room fell silent, the body slumping with it. "That was anti-climactic," he spoke to himself with a bored tone before pulling himself off the ground.

Before Deacon could think of anything else he began running at full speed to get to his unconscious friend, finding her in the same position they had left her. He kicked off the rest of the books that covered her, cradling her head softly in his hand as he tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. "Rose," he brushed the stray brown hair out of her face as he coddled her head.

Despite the dangers of her head injury, Deacon couldn't help but notice how peaceful the young woman looked, her long lashes resting, the perfect pattern of her light freckles; unnoticeable unless you were really paying attention, the way her long curly hair fell perfectly around her heart shaped face. Why was he thinking now about how pretty she was? Like...Rose was perfect for the Railroad, that was all he could attribute it to. When she joined, he knew she was special, blowing kisses at a couple of traffickers hauling two synths across the Wasteland and getting them free of charge. Before she blew the traffickers fucking brains everywhere, of course she hadn't known what she was doing at the time but...

Deacon contemplated just letting her rest but decided against it. "You gotta wake up," he gave her face a gentle slap, earning a groan in response.

"Alright good, c'mon let's get you back to headquarters so Carrington can get you checked out." He sat her up right against a wall as he noticed her shoulder completely out of its socket, his face flushed white at the brutal sight.

She crinkled her nose in discomfort as Deacon shuffled back a little, it really wasn't pretty even with clothed covering it partially.

"What," she questioned, her voice still groggy from coming to as she looked down to see her out of place shoulder. "Well that's going to hurt like a bitch," she sighed. "Pop it back in will ya," she looked up at Deacon who was avoiding the injury.

"Nu huh."

"Why not," a slightly annoyed look covered her face.

"Looks gross."

"Deacon, c'mon."

"Nope," he took a step back still avoiding looking at her.

"Don't be such a pussy," she scolded.

"Calling me names won't make me want to do it anymore," he crossed his arms defensively. "Deacon," she glared at him beginning to stand up, holding onto the wall for support.

"Fine," he gave in walking over to his injured friend. "Do you want something to bite onto or...?"

"Just do it," she rushed. Without giving a countdown Deacon popped her shoulder back into it socket, the sound of bones cracking and the blood curdling scream was enough to make him cringe and almost lose his lunch.

He never did like this kind of stuff; another reason he never usually traveled with a partner. If he was alone, he stayed hidden, or just booked it to a safe place. There were never his own injuries to tend to, he always came back with everything intact.

"You didn't give me a warning asshole," Rose used her good arm to slap Deacon.

"It hurts less when you don't see it coming," he held his hands up defensively.

"I feel light headed," Rose's knees went weak and gave out from under her, Deacon caught her just in time before she hit the floor.

"Rose?"

"I'm okay," she said weakly.

"You lost a lot of blood, we need to get going," Deacon sat her gently on the floor as he began piling clothes into a rusty shopping cart before placing her on top.

"The most convenient way to get your dying friend through the Commonwealth: an old shopping cart." Deacon spoke to himself, almost sounding proud.

"Shut up and get me home," she scolded wearily.

"Sorry. Didn't know you were still conscious. I'll shut up now," he pushed the shopping cart out of the store and began making their way back to headquarters.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Mature Content**_

* * *

"I swear, if it's not you it's your damn brother on this table," Carrington gurgled under his breath in his thick accent as he threw a stitch in the gash on Rosie's head.

Rose winced as he did so, eyes flickering around the Railroad headquarters. People were so busy, rummaging through boxes and hissing instructions to synths as they shoved supplies into their hands before sending them off to parts unknown. Machines beeped and groaned around them, agents working nonstop, a Morse code reader in the far corner, Desdemona and Deacon in the middle of it all planning whatever it was they had to plan.

"Oh c'mon, we're not that bad," she winced due to the medication that numbed the area beginning to wear off.

"Last month you were sitting here with a broken leg because Deacon 'dared' you to jump off the roof of an old gas station," the irritated doctor glared.

Rose smirked softly as he said that, remembering balancing on the edge of that roof. Caps to land in the tire? It didn't seem that far of a jump, to be honest, so she hadn't really hesitated; of course, her shoelace had gotten stuck in the tin, but she was pretty sure she would have stumbled to the ground in pain anyway.

"Hey, it was well worth the thirty caps," Rose laughed through the pain.

"This medicine could be for people who actually deserve it."

Carrington tied a knot in the thread before clipping it and dropping the rusted pair of scissors an aluminum trey, the clanking from metal on metal erupted through the entire hideout. Heads turned, but they appeared to be the fresh faced, everyone else moved without pause, busy in their own worlds of work and duty. Rose always liked the feel of the Underground, tucked away in a nasty little grave, somewhere so unsuspecting.

"Thanks doc," Rose patted the shoulder of the sullen doctor before hopping off the gurney and proceeded to scout out her brother.

She hadn't seen him in weeks, he was always so busy now doing stuff for the Railroad. Moving synths, aiding patrols, keeping checkpoints in tact, restocking safe houses. She was happy they didn't have to scavenge anymore, really, because it was always so dangerous being a scavver but she also missed her brother.

As the brunette pranced around the headquarters searching for her twin brother she caught a glimpse of a certain bald headed jokester rummaging through a trunk on his knees, of god knows how many disguises. He had a trunk in almost every safe house filled with whatever he could find to change into. She had even seen chests he had tucked away in random locations and when she would come back, they would be gone; he had to move them, just had to.

"Hey killer," she nudged him with her knee, slightly knocking him off balance.

"I'm heading over to Goodneighbor, want to come? It's sure to be a... _blast_ ," he cackled at his own pun as Rose rolled her eyes.

"That physically hurt me," she said vacantly.

"Oh come on, that joke was _the bomb_ ," he went into another laughing tangent.

"You are literally the only person who finds puns humorous."

The dark haired dame ran her fingers through her hair, gently touching the incision that Carrington had just sewed up. The trek back to base wasn't an easy one, with Rose down for the count, Deacon hiding her in cubby holes while he tried to find a way around big obstacles. She had felt terrible about it, but she hadn't had any control over the situation.

As Deacon's laughter began to calm he wiped a tear from under his trademarked sunglasses, "Oh man, but really, want to go to Goodneighbor with me," he offered.

"Yeah sure, I just need to find Giles first. You seen him?"

"Not recently, I'd check with Des though, he might not be back from his mission yet."

Deacon found the primped and primed black wig that he normally wore to Goodneighbor when he'd be disguised as a common drifter, and placed it flawlessly over his shiny bald head. It fit snugly after a few adjustments, his smile proud and his hands on his hips.

"Okay, I'll be ready to head out in a bit," she turned on her heels to hunt for the leader of their whole operation.

Seeing as Desdemona was always perched at the cement slab in the middle of the hideout; organizing missions and what not, it wasn't hard to spot her. She looked more haggard than usual, running a hand through her greasy hair; her jackets were tattered and her jeans had fresh tears. Rose cocked her head softly as she approached, wondering softly if she should ask what was wrong, but deciding against it.

"Hey Des, have you seen -"

Before Rose could finish her sentence the doors leading from the church opened and a more masculine version of herself walked in, dropping a load of medical supplies in front of the doc. Giles was a hard character to forget, his hair was a shade or two dimmer than his twin sisters and was always pushed back, with the exception of a few strands that would rebel, his eyes resembled honey; and he always wore the same leather jacket, jeans, and white V-neck. He occupied the typical bad ass personality; several people looked up to him, swearing he's the coolest guy throughout the Commonwealth.

He was a typical heavy, bigs arms and a mean look on his face as long as possible. Rose always felt safe with her brother, as did everyone else; he'd always tried to get jobs as a bouncer or a caravan guard when she was younger, something steady, but nothing ever worked.

"Here you are doc, I found an entire stash of stims at an old raiders camp," he straightened his leather jacket out before taking a few more steps towards the slab of concrete.

Carrington muttered his praises as he started to organize the stash Giles had brought in. He ordered his little gaggle of scavvers to disperse the loot to wherever it needed to go in the base, saying hey to the important faces, winking at Glory across the room.

"Hey sis," he pulled Rose into a headlock before commencing to give her a nuggie.

"Giles," she laughed before jabbing him in the ribs to make him release her.

"Oh gross, you're bleeding," he looked down at his hand to see a red liquid spread across his knuckles.

"Oh damn, Carrington just stitched me up," Rose paused to touch the open wound. "Hey doc!" She called out.

"Are you kidding me!" He raised his hands in disbelief.

* * *

Nearly half an hour passes before Rosie and Deacon arrive to the gates of Goodneighbor, and not a moment too soon. As Deacon holds open the gates to Goodneighbor they catch the end of a ruthless showing starring the good Mayor's hunting knife and the gut of some riff raff that normally caused trouble around the city full of misfits. She didn't remember his name, but knew he was always talking about insurance or whatever; just always harassing people whenever he could.

"What a shame, he probably forgot the safe word," Deacon winked as he nudged Rose with his elbow.

"Grow up D," she scolds, failing to hide the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Once the ghoulish mayor finishes his flashy speech and retreats back into the run down statehouse, Deacon leans over to Rose. She could smell bubblegum and body odor, something distinctly Deacon in her mind.

"I've got some business to attend to at the Rexford, I'll find you in about an hour or so, sound good," he says in a low whisper, careful not to attracted unwanted attention.

Last time they had made any louder noise about dealings at the Rexford, Deacon had been jumped and, even in such a small town, they hadn't found who done it. So things were a lot sneakier, a lot darker, a lot more planned than thinking they were the hardest mothers to ever wall through the gates.

"Sure," Rose shrugs before parting way, heading towards Daisy's personal shop.

"Hey sweetie, you here to buy," the welcoming granny ghoul smiled at her reoccurring customer.

"Maybe," Rose replies with a honeyed smile and she runs her fingers over a couple junk items. "Anything new going on," she questioned before taking a sad, limp teddy bear into her hands, shaking it around before setting it back on the lonesome shelf.

"Nothing much, a new comer just showed up. A few minutes before you actually. Hard to miss him, wearing a fancy blue vault suit, looks like he's on some personal undertaking," the granny ghoul began wiping down the counter that the cash register occupied.

Rose cocked her head as she ran her fingers through an old wig, string of red hair coming off around her appendages. Vault suit? Didn't see those too much, unless you found a corpse, and they never really carried a presence anyway.

"Might be worth taking a look into. Thanks Daisy," As Rose walks towards Daisy she places a handful of caps on the counter in exchange for the small report.

Rose often got intel from the friendly ghoul in exchange for caps, or doing an odd job here and there. Although Daisy wasn't associated with the Railroad, she could get behind the cause and didn't mind giving up the gossip that she picked up from around town. And no one looked twice at a sweet old ghoul that prattled on about deals and old libraries. Daisy was sweet, Daisy had no real cunning behavior, but if it was for a good cause she could be manipulative.

As she exits Daisy's shop she makes a sharp right, the glass from a broken bottle crunched under the pressure of her boot and the lonesome lady begins making her way towards the statehouse to see an over welcoming mayor. She loved this place, mostly because of Hancock, because he just had this charisma that drew people in, even with his looks. Goodneighbor was a friendly enough place, still carrying that toughness from being persecuted and harassed by whoever for so long. She knew personally that quite a few of these people were runaway slaves, possibly even a synth or two.

As Rose pulled open the chipped wooden door the entire atmosphere changed, it's suddenly very tranquil, as if she walked into another dimension from the noisy streets of Goodneighbor. To her surprise the 'body guards' that normally swarmed the state house were nowhere to be found. It smelt like junk fumes and old rot, cologne from years gone by, after burn from Fahrenheit's beloved Ashmaker.

Rose rushes her fingers through her hair, brushing the mess of a mane to one side before hastily making her way up the winding stairs, each step creaking under her weight. She didn't care what she looked like typically, effortless scav-appearance to look appealing but she didn't want to be too pretty or else you get snatched up. But in this case, she wanted to be presentable for whatever reason.

"I was wondering when you'd pay me a visit," the pirate-y ghoul's raspy voice hailed once Rose hit the finishing step.

"You know me, just couldn't stay away," she replied, winded from walking up the stairs.

"Wow. You're really out of shape aren't ya," Hancock smirked, finding humor in the puffing coming from his doorway.

"Oh blow me," she snapped.

She looked up at the mayor, who was settled on the middle cushion of a rundown ruby couch, an arm extended on each side with his head tilted back and his hat covering the rim of his eyes, exposing a bald wrinkly patch of skin where hair use to be. If she didn't know any better she'd guess he was taking a quick nap, not a care in the world.

But she wasn't stupid.

"I might just take you up on that offer," he replied in a low growl refusing to move from his resting position.

"Where is everyone," she plopped down next to her ghoulish friend, tilting her head back in a similar position.

"Waiting in front of the balcony. I'm suppose'ta deliver a speech in a few, mayor duties call ya know," He responded, acutely turning his head to peak at Rose. "I got time for a quickie," he smirked.

"Mm, tempting, but I've got a killer headache; so rain check," she requested.

"Yeah sure, want something to take the edge off that headache," he offered, sitting up and readjusting his hat to search for a chem that would do the trick.

"I knew you were my guy," she grinned as Hancock dropped an inhaler into her lap.

"Deacon here with ya," he questioned before popping a couple of white colored tablets onto his tongue.

Mentats, she never had the taste, but he always did that before a speech. Kept his words from slurring, put everything into perspective, didn't drag him down.

"Yep."

She pulled the red inhaler up to her lips, inhaling the sharp, tangy sprits of air that begun filling her lungs, resulting in her slouched back into the couch, feeling as if time was slowing down around her. Hancock stood and stretched beside her, his movements slow and lagging in her eyes, growing more and more lagged as the drug kicked in.

Whoever had discovered this from Brahmin shit was already high as fuck to begin with.

If her brother ever found out she used anything but absinthe for her insomnia, he would have already killed her himself. He didn't like junkies, they always swindled him out of shit and even tried to kidnap her once when she was about nine or ten. She should hate them too, but something about that first hit of Jet - in the ruins, a boy with pearly white teeth and the biggest brown eyes she had ever seen - had just been a blush of many bruises to her.

She was hooked instantly, but not junkie status yet

Hancock turned his gaze towards her and a smile spread from ear to ear. She lolled her head towards him, grinning menacingly up at him but he never took stock into it. They'd been doing this for about a year now, and he knew her too well to take stock in most evil little things about her.

"You sure about that quickie? Everything's better with a puff of jet," he promised, moving to stand in front of her.

Rose scratched softly at the seem where a sewn-in patch of leather was on her inner thigh; Hancock didn't miss the twitch. When her grin grew, he smirked and shrugged off his coat a ways, the ruffles on his shirt free to flop about and make her giggle maniacally even after he had discarded it. When he snapped his fingers, Fahrenheit appeared like magic and shut the double doors leading into the room, a lock sliding into place; though, with her guarding, nothing would even make it to worry about the lock.

"Its never usually this easy to talk you into it," he murmured, placing both hands on either side of her head as she slouched on the couch. "What's changed?"

"I could have died today," she reached up and felt around the odd, charred skin of his neck. "So fuck me and lets get this over with."

"Romance at its finest," Hancock chuckled as he went down to her belt and slid it from the loops.

Rose's eyes fluttered up to the ceiling as he popped the button of her jeans, her knuckles curling up against the back of the couch around her head. She lifted her hips as he tugged on her jeans, crying out when his mouth wasted no time in finding her damp slit.

" _John_ ," she whimpered.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered against her skin. "I never grasped the concept of a quickie very well."

And he went back to work, making her curl her toes and jam her heels into the edge of the couch cushions to give him room he growled against her, sending pleasurable little tingles through her while she was lost in whimpers and moans.

Never a quickie, always had to go through the rounds with him. She could never trust herself to not give into these quickies though, and was one of the reasons she usually avoided coming with Deacon, trusting him with his lies.

" _Fuck_ ," Hancock drug out in his garbled tone, licking at the skin just below her navel, making her jump. "You make the _best_ fucking noises."

He drug his teeth softly against her clit, and Rose whimpered again, resisting the urge to buck her hips up into his mouth. His tongue stabbed at her, two fingers lost deep and touching her where he knew would set her off, loosen her up for the big finale. She whimpered and keened, mouth ajar, the high sending her to places unknown in the middle of the build up. Her legs trembled around his head, another point to resist - just clamping down around him, making him lose himself inside of her.

"F- _Fuck, John_ ," she tossed her head back, so close - and then he stopped; her expression snapped to disbelief. "What the -" she looked down between her thighs, saw lust in those dropped lids. "What do you think you're doing?"

He chuckled softly, but his expression didn't change much as he crawled up her; she looked insulted. "Don't worry baby," he avoided her lips, no kissing on the mouth. "We ain't over yet."

Rose heard his buckle rattle and a rush of anxiety trickled through her, but quickly dissipated. Not the first time, definitely not the first time, but it happened anyway. The second guessing, the moment he gave her to take it back, walk out the door, but she craved this little deal.

She felt him rub against her sex, her throat bobbing as she waited for him, her skin tickling beneath his grinding. He groaned low in his throat, teasing her entrance, making her squirm a little, before he plunged into her in one stroke. Her walls clenched around him, making him roll his head on his shoulders with the rush it sent through him.

"Damn, baby," he murmured and his teeth dug into the skin of her throat, hips rolling against hers.

Her fingers ran down his arms, up and over his back, pulling him against her, anchoring herself a little because the drugs made her muscles a little weightless. Always the same, so different from her own stress relieving sessions, and so fucking incredible.

Rose would never admit how much she needed this.

He wasn't her first, and she always felt he wouldn't be her last because of her habits, but something about Hancock was different. She knew he was fooling her, she knew he was probably lying and stringing her along for whatever reason she would probably never know. But this felt incredible, he felt incredible, and it would take Hell to tear her away from him, away from this.

" _Fuck, fuck_ ," Rose hisses, arching up against him, cramped and also acutely aware of how close they were to falling off the couch if they didn't pay attention. "Jesus fuck John," she whimpered, hips flexing up against his.

"Yeah baby girl," he pushed back the hair from her face, chuckling softly when she turned her face into his palm. "How does it feel, huh? Does it feel good? Huh?"

"It feels so fucking good," she whimpered, eyes shut tight, her walls squeezing around him. "Fuck John, you're amazing..."

"Sounds like it."

Rose's eyes shot open, squeezing herself up against Hancock as he pressed down against her; she could hear him growling as he did so, and she felt a tingle go down her spine.

There was a man standing in the doorway, a blue suit beneath a tangle of rusted and shiny metal, a heavy rifle on his back, two 10mm pistols on his hips, buck knife on his ankle. He had a gangly beard and his hair hung around his eyes; it was evident that he needed a serious shower, a haircut. And he looked so casual, standing there, Fahrenheit nowhere in sight and that was concerning; where the helm had he come from? How had he gotten in?

"You," Hancock murmured with only a...hint of annoyance in his tone.

The man smirked and waved his arms around him. "Yeah, its me," he paused and crosses his arms again. "Who is this pretty lady?"

"Get the fuck out," Hancock growled. "Let me get decent."

The man hummed and turned around, shutting the doors behind him. Hancock growled as he peeled himself away from Rose, watching her try to shake herself a little sober, looking dazed as she crossed her legs so daintily; she was sore and they were only a it for a few moments.

"Who the fuck is that," her speech slurred a little and she cleared her throat. "Shit..."

Hancock shook his head as he buckled his pants, letting her lean on him as she jumped into her pants. "Nobody."


	3. Chapter 3

Once the double doors leading to Hancock's lounge shut, Rose lights up a cigarette, taking a long drag, trying to sober up before she'd attempt to master the stairs while still coming down from her high.

She leans in Fahrenheit's usual spot and watches sloppy smoke rings burst apart against the ceiling. The guards were back and looking nervous, Fahrenheit looking infuriated as she barked orders and enforced them to hold very specific positions.

Rose offered the mayor's favored guard a cigarette once the intimidating sentinel reached the top of the stairs; lighting it for her with the end of her own cigarette. Fahrenheit sighed and slouched against the wall next to her, rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand.

"So what's the deal with the asshole in there?" Rose jerked her chin at the doors. Fahrenheit shook her head.

"Haven't heard about the Vault Dweller?" Rose shook her head. "Not surprised, you've never been in the know. And he hasn't been the most popular news story out there. He's looking for the Institute, but he's been doing some jobs for Hancock so he's here to get paid. And get information."

"He's a dick," Rose ashed her cigarette off on the floor.

"Yeah, he's pretty rough around the edges," Fahrenheit shrugged. "But I would be too if I was looking for my baby in a new world."

"A new," Rose paused, scrunching up her nose. "Huh?"

"He was frozen...two hundred years, frozen, watched his baby gets snatched out of his wife's arms and then she was shot. He's not a well-adjusted fellow. Apparently he was a soldier before the war too...PTSD like a motherfucker."

"Doesn't mean he has to be such a dick and ruin my good time," Rose grumbled, rushing her fingers through the length of her caramel locks.

"Yeah, suppose you're not used to being kicked to the curb," Fahrenheit joked, lightening the mood as she jabbed Rose in the ribs.

"Yeah, gotta say that was a first," Rose grinned; trying to forget about what the grungy man may or may not have seen.

She still wanted to gouge his eyes out.

There was a gratified silence as the two women stood, puffing off the end of their cigarettes, the toxins making their tongues tingle and go metallic. Rose was distracted as she watched a tiny fly, buzzing around their heads, buzzing and zipping past her, around her, at her.. She didn't get to observe many small flies, most of the bugs from before the war had been mutated, becoming overgrown and vicious; it was calming to know that there was a time when not everything was trying to kill everyone.

"Well, I'm going to head down to The Third Rail," Rose pushed off the wall, her legs still felt wobbly but she knew she'd manage the make it downstairs to the bar. "Don't feel like waitin' here for God knows how long."

"Yeah, See ya," Fahrenheit saluted her off with two lazy fingers as Rose took the first step down stairs.

As Rose began taking each step she couldn't stop thinking about the sinister, disapproving glare the grimy man flashed her as they crossed paths. It had made her curl and inwardly she felt sick to her stomach, if she was going to be dramatic; she wanted so hard to blame it on the drugs, but knew she couldn't.

Sure she had withstood countless unwelcoming glances and slurs; it came with the line of work. But this felt different to her, he wasn't just some passing civilian who read about the Railroad in the paper and wrote it off a worthless cause; a group of muscle wasting their time.

This man probably didn't have the slightest idea of who the Railroad was; he was just so overfilled with hatred and disgust that it sent chills down her spine. She was sure Fahrenheit was right, no one came through the Wasteland completely intact, and especially someone that had went from suburban life to fighting for his on a daily basis? Looking for his baby, or something, didn't Fahrenheit say? Yeah, he was fucked up, of course she had grown up being threatened with kidnappings, three years old and she had almost been sold into slavery, ten she had a knife to her throat while they threatened her brother with execution if he didn't give back whatever food he stole for them.

No one made it through the Wasteland completely intact, but that didn't mean you had to go through it as a raider-esque figure; if its one thing everyone out here had, it was options.

Rose was brought back from her thought when she proceeded to trip over her own feet, not realizing that she had already reached the bottom of the winding steps.

"Shit," she breathed as she caught herself, a nearby guard grinned at the clumsy broad.

"Been walkin' long," he kidded.

Rose began guffawing at herself; forgetting to respond to the guard. Although the initial punch of the jet had worn off, she was still left feeling peaceful and all around in a delightful mood. That fuck-nut upstairs couldn't completely put a damper on her mood when she came into Goodneighbor and had her puffs.

She marched out of the Statehouse, then followed the sidewalk around to the underground bar; another guard was stationed outside. He nodded at her and she didn't nod back, shutting the chain link behind her. She saluted Ham at the front door and he grunted back, but didn't respond otherwise as she descended the stairs.

Like everything else in the Commonwealth, the bar centered in Goodneighbor was neglected and filthy, but she held particularly noteworthy people. Makeshift lights were strung above the bar, _The Third Rail_ in shitty, makeshift metal letters behind them. Fat bottles of whiskey, vodka and other lovely amenities were spread behind the bar, across it closest to the bartender. People sat peacefully packed onto the two couches to her right when Rose entered, talking and laughing over a game of Caravan they played on the table between them.

The Mr. Handy programed with a vulgar British upcoming always had a job set aside for Rose, and that's what she was hoping for right now. Mostly work that Hancock needed done, but couldn't do himself, or hire someone for due to his political position, and he always made sure if Rose got the job, she got paid the most.

She was very thorough.

Another curious fellow that held up in The Third Rail was a mercenary named Robert MacCready, but similar to the majority of the Commonwealth he stuck to a last name basis. Rose never needed a gun for hire since she'd do all her dirty work, so she didn't know him too well; though they shared a beer or two in the past. She could see him sitting in the back lounge, bathed in red lights and sitting between two mannequins with those creepy fucking smiles on their faces. He was staring at what appeared - from her distance from him - to be a piece of paper, but she knew what it was.

A photo.

Of all the time she spent in here waiting for her brother or Deacon, or even just coming to pass the time, she shared a past with many of the patrons. Good, bad or ugly, she knew every face by heart. Lost almost a thousand caps to poker and Caravan with a man in a blue jumpsuit over there, Larry Harrison. Made out with little Lucy Douvale on a dare, found she may have a taste for it before Hancock got a hold of Rose.

The last person she expected to share a past with in the infamous bar was Magnolia, the curved singer.

Her voice was thick and husky, that's what drew Rose in first to be honest, and then it had just been mesmerized curiosity because she had never heard someone with such a beautiful voice. She had been singing Goodneighbor, her own little song, swaying and caressing the microphone stand, her eyes closed, eye shadow dark and smoky, dress glimmering in the warm lighting.

The next thing Rose knows, she's in Magnolia's bed and being taught a trick or two.

Rose sighed and adjusted her shirt when she caught a leer from the nearby couch, a cloud of smoke rested eye level in the establishment, it reeked of booze and blood; the inside of these four walls have seen its fair share of brawls, and Rose has been lucky enough to tangle in a few of them.

"You look like you could use somethin' cold," Whitechapel Charlie spoke up in his usual mocking tone.

"I'll take a beer," Rose ordered, taking her place on a bar stool that was just high enough that her feet dangled an inch from the grimy floor.

The tattered Mr. Handy left to fetch the bottled brew when someone dressed as a common drifter took the stool adjacent from Rose's. He looked a bit grim, hat pushed down over thick hair, eyes hidden behind thick sunglasses even in the dank, dim bar. He had his fists clenched on the counter top as he ordered just water, taking a quick sip from the bottle; she doubted he really drank anything.

"Have you caught a glimpse of him yet," Deacon asked in a hushed voice, looking ahead so no one would suspect they're together.

"Massive beard, walking around with a stick up his ass?" Rose darted her eyes in her partner's direction to see a sly grin painted on his face.

"That's the one. I've been hearing some pretty impressive things about him, started keeping tabs on him since he entered Diamond City, caught hint that he was headed here, and if I'm right, he should be coming in for a drink," he spoke confidently.

"You psychic now?" She lifted the cold brew to her lips.

A smile pulled at Deacon's lips. "I was eavesdropping in the statehouse."

"Have we decided if he's friend or foe yet?" Rose remembered the petrifying vibe he gave off and it sent shivers down her back.

Secretly she hoped she wouldn't have to share space with that man ever, even if he decided to join the cause. If Deacon had his eyes on him, he was definitely a person of interest, but if he were friend or foe even Deacon couldn't decide.

"His intentions are still unclear," he replied vacuously.

All the chatter ceased behind them, and Rose and Deacon shot each other a side glance of caution. Rose looked forward to the cracked mirror behind the bar, her own fists clenching as she watched the man sweep his eyes around the bar. He really looked like a nightmare, like those crazy hermits you could find in the hill, that's what he reminded her of. People gave him wary side glances as he slowly paced to the bar, his gaze like a hawks; he was looking for something, or someone.

As he barked his drink order - whiskey, the whole bottle - everyone went back to their previous activities and forgot that a complete stranger had entered the domain. Or they ignored him while keeping a close eye, as Magnolia made eye contact with Rose and shook her head, plucking up her mic and paced gently around her small stage.

Rose continued to sip her beer as Deacon drifted away to a nearby couch to avoid being spotted by the possible hostile. _Thanks, D, leave me up here with this crazy hermit dude._

"You the skank that's shackin' up with the mayor," he grunted.

Rose clenched her first around the bottle, trying to ignore the strangers tasteless comment. It took all of her self control to not clench her fists anymore, to keep it sort of casual; around her bottle, no one would notice, against the counter top yes they would notice.

"I mean, why waste your time with a buttered face like that," He stood up and walked towards the stool right next to hers and plopped his unwelcomed hide down.

"When I could have someone as charming as you," she replied sarcastically, refusing to hide the disgust on her face.

"Hey, c'mon now. Our kind and theirs aren't meant to mix," he placed a sleazy hand over her thigh, massaging the area in an attempt to seduce her. "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"Oh yeah," she appointed her gaze towards him, locking her eyes on him. "You have a few seconds to remove your hand before I stick you with a syringe filled with the venom from a Radscorpion," She coaxed.

He quickly removed his hand from her thigh, only to grab a handful of hair and yanking her head back and pressed the blade of a knife to her throat. She dropped her bottle and her nails dug into the counter, but she didn't make any other expression but indifference. This wasn't the first time she had a knife to her throat, he couldn't scare her with this.

"You've got some pretty man sized balls to be making a threat like that," he whispered in her ear through clenched teeth, spit coating the side of her cheek.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she grunted, nails aching against the old counter; White Chapel sighed.

"Knew it," the man chuckled. "No different than a raider whore, lying with the mutated...pathetic."

Rose didn't say anything, she didn't have to, because she heard a gun cock and the man released her. MacCready was behind them, rifle loaded and she knew no matter what the man knew, he couldn't be as fast as MacCready; no one was.

"You lay another hand on her, or anyone else in this bar again," MacCready threatened. "And I will not hesitate to blow your fucking brains out, got me?"

Dead silence, the man didn't say anything.

He growled and stood from his stool, a head taller than MacCready, but he stomped past the younger man without a word. MacCready lowered his rifle and watched him go before he looked back at Rose.

"You okay, chickadee," _oh MacCready, a nerd after my own heart._

Rose trembled softly once and then nodded, rubbing at her neck; she could still feel the blade. "Yeah man, yeah I'm okay," she smiled at him, rubbing his arm a little. "Thanks man, really."

MacCready nodded once and slid his rifle back into its worn place on his back, walking back towards his little place in the back. Rose slid off of the stool as Deacon approached, paying off his water before he turned towards the door.

"We gotta get the fuck out of here now," he hissed before he was gone.

* * *

"Th' hell took ya so long," Cait spat when he slammed shut the rickety door of Goodneighbor. "Don' know why I couldn' follow ya."

"Cus you draw too much fucking attention," he growled, stomping past her.

"Oh, an' you don't with that fuckin' suit and bad attitude," she groused as she followed behind him, bat balanced on her shoulder. "Fin' what ya was lookin fer?"

He showed her the fat sack of caps in his hand and she nearly drooled, not even put off that he was stuffing it into his own pocket. He'd found Cait just a month after he had scavved his way into the ruins of his old city; she was all fire, piss and vinegar and he'd watched her huff Jet like there was no tomorrow. Cait was the only one that didn't look at him crooked when he did what he had to do, what anyone had to do to get what they wanted - what they _needed_ \- in this fucked up Wasteland.

"There was a fucking mouth in there I need ya to follow," he stopped Cait when they rounded the corner away from Goodneighbor; the mutants they had torn through were rotting in the sun. "She's fuckin the mayor."

Cait crinkled her nose. "Ghoul fucker? Tha's fuckin nasty, man. Yeah, what ya need me ta do?"

"Just follow her," he said sternly, peering around the bricks and watching the little mouth disappearing through the rubble. "Don't let her see ya, don't let her catch ya, and don't touch her."

Cait grinned. "Save that fer you, got it," she clapped a hand on his shoulder as she passed him. "I got ya, doll, don' worry. We meet up at the Vault, yeah?"

He nodded. "I'll be inside, just walk right on in."

"Careful, Nate," Cait warned before she was gone, as good as disappearing into the shadows as light itself.


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks had passed since she had been in Goodneighbor, folks at the Railroad were still trying to establish if the vault dweller was friend or foe; although everyone was leaning towards the latter. He had carved such a path of destruction into the city, any of the good he had done was told in hushed whispers or not spoke of at all. Sure he had cleared up a few settlements, but he had mugged and murdered his way to Diamond City.

A bad omen.

As of right now Rose was attempting to gear up for an undercover mission with Deacon and her brother, one of the Railroad's recourses stumbled upon a settlement called Covenant and the triad were going out to investigate. Rose had been looking forward to this, she needed a distraction from the vault dweller and their one and (hopefully) only encounter back in Goodneighbor.

"You ready yet," Giles rushed her from the doorway rolling his eyes when he saw her sitting with her head on her knees practically snoring.

Rose looked up with groggy eyes as she reached for her boot to tug it on; you would think for how genuinely relieved she was to have this mission, she would be more motivated. "Please stop shouting," she whispered before slouching over onto the dirt soaked mattress, forgetting about her boots.

"I wasn't," Giles paused before taking a couple steps towards his sister and leaning down to her ear " _BUT NOW I AM!_ " He bellowed.

Rose scratched at her ears and she kicked her brother over while her commenced to wail at her agony. She glared from behind her scraggly bangs up at him, joined by two other lying on the mattresses striped down the hallway trying to get some sleep.

She'd known about this mission for a while now; and she'd been looking forward to it no doubt, but the night before Deacon challenged her to a drinking game in the church and she couldn't pass it up; little did she know while she'd been doing shots of hard liquor, Deacon had been doing shot after shot of water.

She should have known better than to trust him.

"C'mon, a hangover is not excuse to delay a mission," Giles pushed his sisters boot on before sitting her up against the wall; back to dressing her like a petulant toddler. "How many drinks did you have again? Deacon said somewhere around fifteen, and that was just before you started barfing all over the church. Apparently you went right back to drinking after literally drenching the place in vomit." Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he continued the one sided conversation.

As he continued to lace her shoes and ramble on about what the church smelt like after the activates the night before he paused when the very distant sound of a Brahmin echoed throughout the headquarters. Heads tilted, poked up from their pillows; in the distance, Rose could here Tinker Tom say _what?_ in a very confused manner.

"I know I'm still pretty messed up," she paused to look at her brother. "But was that a fuckin' Brahmin?"

"I believe so. Yep," he pursed his lips together as he stood up, and began dragging Rose through the hideout to investigate the sound; she groaned with his tight grip on her wrist.

As they entered the center of the hideout they could hear Desdemona's lecturing tone of voice, it was a voice normally reserved for Deacon and herself.

 _Deacon._

Of course, why should she have thought it could be anyone but him?

"Deacon what the hell!" Rose shouted, instantly regretting it once the sharp daggers erupted throughout her skull.

"Hey there sleeping beauty," Deacon replies once he sees his partner, disregarding Des when he walked over, a mutated, two headed, hairless cow in tow on a leash. "Pretty cool right? I thought it would make our disguise more authentic, ya know!" He exclaimed, overly proud of himself.

"Nice going," Giles praised as he began patting one of the Brahmins heads until the other head demanded his attention as well.

He didn't seem to mind the molted, drooly tongue that languidly slid over his fingers; Rose crinkled her nose a little, but wasn't really affected by it. Giles had an affinity with animals she didn't, she just never gave them a second thought.

Deacon walked over to his suffering teammate and pulled a pair of sunglasses from one of the bags the Brahmin walk holding and placed it over her honey dew eyes. She peered up from over the rim of them with gently parted lips and genuine pain in her eyes. She should have known better, given that she had, had a hand in setting up this mission and was a big player in it, but that didn't make it hurt less.

"Here, this will help shield your eyes from the sun," he explained.

She could tell he felt bad about her hangover and this was his way of apologizing, Deacon wasn't one for coming right out and saying sorry, instead he made small gestures to earn forgiveness. And that was one of the best things about Deacon, he took the words _actions speak louder than words_ seriously and Rose never wanted to hear words in case they ended up hollow.

She never had to worry about that with Deacon.

"We should head out; it's going to take us a few hours to get there," she combed her fingers through her hair before scooping it into a high pony tail; it wouldn't help her headache, but she didn't need her hair in her eyes.

"You guys head out and I'll catch up; I need to say bye to Glory," Giles gushed as he nearly skipped to find his beloved.

Rose snorted but didn't do anything else to pick on her brother, he was in love, as far as she could tell anyway. Glory was one bad bitch in Rose's book, a better heavy than her brother, earning the petulant little sisters (who had always only had her brothers attention) respect the moment she met her - by mowing down two mutants hell bent on finishing Giles (who had been unconscious with a broken leg) and then basically drafting the siblings into the Railroad.

Rose remembered looking up almost with new eyes and watching the woman with coffee skin and pale starlight around her head, sprayed with blood and a kind smile with dark lips.

Rose was in love, in a different kind of way.

Giles was head-over-heels, Rose had felt like she found one other person to connect with, someone who would protect her as much as her brother did. Honestly, Rose didn't have that kind of trust even with Deacon, who was nearly a second brother to her.

"Sounds good to me," Deacon grabbed the rope tied around the Brahmin's double head and began leading the way through the hideout.

"I will not see another god damned Brahmin in this safe house, Deacon," Desdemona warned as the couple began climbing the stairs, disregarding the cautionary tale.

"How did you even get him in here?" Rose inquired as Deacon began coaxing the oversized bull up the cemented stairs that lead to the church.

"A whole lot of Brahmin bribing. Believe it or not, they're easier to get upstairs than down," he scratched the back of his head as the Brahmin took one sluggish step at a time.

"I would have loved to see that," Rose murmured. "Does he have a name," she waited impatiently, holding the door open for the cow.

"Nah, should we give him one," he tugged at the rope, hoping it would entice the mule to speed up.

"Yeah, what about Scabs?" She recommended.

"I mean, it's not the most appealing name, but I guess," he shrugged as Scabs reached the top of the stairs. "Alright! Now we can finally get going."

As they strolled through the maze leading to the church there was complete silence minus the occasional huff of air coming from Scabs. Why did he even bring the damn thing into the base when he could have just tied it up to a pew? That's what she would have -

"Oh Jesus fuck, what is that smell!?" She cried, slapping the palm of her hand over her mouth and nose.

"That, would be the smell of your dinner last night," Deacon grinned down at her, practically immune to the stench.

The old, stagnant water downstairs mixed with old ghoul flesh smelt better; not much better, but enough that Rose would rather go back down there than have to be up here much longer.

"Why would you make me do such a thing," she complained, avoiding the many piles of bile scattered throughout the church; how had she even come up with so much? "I thought you liked me?"

"Actually, you did this all on your own. It took very little persuading," he rebutted as they exited the worn our doors to the church. "And I do like you, dumbass."

* * *

After a few blocks of walking Giles caught up with the rest of the team, trying to pass off a lame excuse to cover up why Glory had really held him up. Rose never complained when Glory held him up, she didn't really mind, whatever made her brother happy. And whatever made Glory happy. It wasn't like he was fucking off, they were just so into each other they got lost.

 _Envy._

Before long the sun had hit high noon and Rose was questioning why she agreed to this mission in the first place, she was promised that they were almost there, but it was just a repeat from an hour ago when she asked if they were nearing in. She patted at the sweat that was beading down the side of her face; she wasn't much of a complainer until it came to long walks in heated weather, then she became the ultimate bitch baby.

She remembered her and Giles having to trek up to Salem to try and get work there clearing out Mirelurks from the shore. She had been so little then - thirteen, fourteen? She forgot - and really whined, but her big brother was still able to carry her on his back. If only she could do that now, but she was almost as tall as him and it wouldn't work.

"Pick up the pace Rose, you're lagging behind," Giles called from a few meters ahead.

"Piss off, my legs are killing me," she hunched over, placing her hands over her knees for support to avoid collapsing; that ponytail was beginning to come back and bite her like she knew it would.

"You're such a baby," Giles opened his mouth to keep insulting his sister until Deacon interrupted.

"Hey guys, I see titanium walls. I think this is the place," she looked up from a piece of paper with poorly drawn directions.

Rose looked up to see ten-foot-high metal walls, shielded by several trees and armored with turrets at every corner and barbed wire. Rose felt instant unease at the sight of the untarnished walls, could smell something sweet over the walls; the turrets tracked their movements, small cameras watching her from a small room somewhere. Whose eyes were on them? Deciding who was and who wasn't a threat to their odd community?

"Alright, come on princess," Giles mocked, placing a hand over her back.

"Bite me," she snapped, still feeling the effects from the hangover.

The grouped continued onto the gated community, following a road until they reached two metal doors, with what looked like a cubical office to the right, and a Brahmin feed that Scabs happily made himself home at. Rose stood awkwardly by her big brothers side, Deacon making small talk about how they were from the West, something about Cassidy's Caravans or something like that. Rose never answered questions or listened to lies, she couldn't keep up knowing her and she would botch the entire mission.

"You guys here to visit Covenant?"

Rose jumped and looked over at the man with slicked back greying hair who spoke out from the chair set right by the main entrance. He supported roughed up blue jeans and an old leather jacket similar to the one Giles normally wore, but they didn't look right on his scrawny frame, or maybe that was just her comparing Giles' and his body types.

"That's right, we heard this is a popular set up for traders and caravans," Deacon spoke up, possibly just winging his dialog now.

"Well you heard right pal, but first you should know, we don't just let anyone inside," he looked the group up at down, trying to decode the three agents, but they were good, no sweat. "There's an entrance test, we call it _The Safe Test_ , everyone's got to take it," he smiled, trying not to give off intimidating vibes.

"That sounds fair, but could you tell us what the test's for," Deacon grinned, raising his eyebrows a smidge.

"Well, between you and me; we only want _good_ people hanging around our little town, no undesirables; people that ain't actually what they seem," The grey haired man popped a toothpick between his canines and began gnawing. "So you want to take the test?"

"Sure, we don't mind taking a tes," Giles agreed after analyzing the situation.

"Alright great, let's get started. I'm going to have to take you one at a time, so who'd like to go first?" The man smiled, waiting for one of the three to step up.

"I'll go ahead first," Giles spoke up, earning another grin from the stranger; Rose searched with weight against her skin for her machete.

"Alright, have a seat," the man gestured to the wooden dining chair resting in front of the rusted desk. "Could you two wait over there more? Got to make sure no one is sharing answers, you know," he cackled, like the joke was that funny.

"Don't mind a bit," Deacon placed his hand over Rose's shoulder before leading her a safe distance away from where the test was taking place.

"So what do you think?" Rose questioned, pulling the hair tie from her locks and sliding her sunglasses into her hair to keep the jungle at bay.

"I'm not sure yet. Passing a test just to get in is a bit sketchy, but they might just be an overly paranoid crowd," he scratched the stubble coming in on his chin.

"What happens if one of us doesn't pass the test," She questioned, watched as her brother talked to the lanky man.

"No idea, just tell them what they want to hear," he insisted.

"Just one more thing then," Deacon hummed at Rose's words, looking down at her. "You have to give me a real reason to not hack his nasty face up with my machete."

After a few minutes Giles stood from his spot and firmly shook the man's hand before heading inside the double doors. Rose almost panicked, watching her brother disappear without a word to her, but she had to calm herself down with that man watching her. And Deacon was here, she was perfectly fine, everything was going to be just fine.

"Looks like Giles made it in, you going next?" Rose looked at Deacon.

"Yeah I can, just don't be the only one who gets locked out," he smirked down at her before making his way to the test chair.

Rose looked at the wilting grass under her feet as she began kicking at the dirt, unaware of the fresh green fauna peeking up from the dirt. A pit began to form in the deepest part of her stomach. Sure she was a pretty likeable character, but she turns into an entirely different person when she's being questioned under oath. She tries to make jokes that end up not making any sense, she laughs at inappropriate times, and when it really starts going downhill she starts flirting with the person.

Sometime during the interview with Desdemona, Rose ended up calling her a " _red hot mama_ ".

But this was different.

This wasn't the liberator of synths, the hero of the slaves, the one trying to free people with nothing but kind words whispered about them. This was a greasy man in the middle of nowhere with a community to his right with nothing but mixed and confusing stories about them.

And Rose was so nervous, she didn't realize where she was until the man spoke.

"You ready hun?" The guy from the desk questioned, she hadn't even realized Deacon was finished and she had taken his place in the chair.

"Sure thing partner," she replied with a southern draw, instantly regretting the accent when the man chuckled awkwardly.

Fuck, how did she get to be one of the best agents if she was so dumb sometimes.

"Alright, let's begin. There are no wrong answers," he flashed her a reassuring smile. "Suppose you're approached by a frenzied scientist who yells _"I'm going to put my quantum harmonizer in your photonic resonation chamber!"_ What's your response?" He looks up at Rose awaiting her response.

"Well, uh," She stutters. "I'd say he knows how to have a good time, if you know what I mean," she gags awkwardly.

"Well alright then," He lets out another awkward train of laughter; well, if she was able to make the creepy guy feel awkward, maybe that was her super power. "Next question, while working as an intern at the clinic, a patient with a strange infection on his foot stumbles through the door. The infection is spreading at an alarming rate, but the doctor has stepped out for a few, what do you do?"

"I'd probably let someone else deal with it, that's way out of my jurisdiction," Rose twirls her hair around her index finger as she anxiously waits for the nest question.

"You discover a young lost boy in a cave. He's hungry and frightened, but also appears to be in possession of stolen property. What do you do?" He looked up from his clip board again after scribbling a couple of notes.

"I'd give him whatever food I have on me at the time, and then try to find him a place to settle down," she replied, she was trying and almost succeeding at falling into her groove.

"And the stolen property?" He raised a brow.

"C'mon, we've all stolen something before. It's not a huge deal," she chuckled again as the man looked at her; _fuck, maybe that wasn't the smart thing to say_.

"Interesting. Well, congratulations you made it onto the baseball team. Which position do you prefer?" He smiles, overly enthused.

"I suppose the catcher; they don't have to do much work," Rose's eyes fluttered up as she begins to fear the interview is going south.

"Alright next question. Your grandma invites you over for tea but you're surprised when she gives you a pistol and orders you to kill someone, what do you do?" He shifts around in his chair as he looks between Rose and the clipboard.

"Uh, probably nothing," she looks around the cubical office. "My grandmas dead so I wouldn't be in that situation."

"Oh uh, my condolences." He clears his throat as he flips a paper over to reveal more questions.

She feels her cheeks beginning to burn up, it's hard to tell with his responses if he likes her answers, as she starts to feel desperate she crosses her arms together to reveal just a slight bit of cleavage, before looking up at him with pleading eyes. He was awkward but he also seemed cynical, he was criticizing every small movement she made but also seemed to passive with her. She had never found someone she couldn't read, she didn't know how to react; even her awkward side was at a loss where to go with the situation.

So she improvised a little.

"You know, I never caught your name," her teeth tugged on her bottom lip as her fingers begin to wander towards his hand.

"Oh well, the people around here call me Swanson," he laughed nervously, catching onto her advances.

"That sounds like the name of a man who knows how to do a thing or two," Her finger draws tiny circles over his knuckles; it was foreign

His eyes follow down from her eyes to the corner of her lip that she was biting on, and then to her slightly bare chest, and he once again had to adjust himself in his chair. So he was just as full of shit as she was, good, she could see him a little better. Bad news, this was all bad news, or they were people that had no clue what they were doing.

And Rose wanted out now.

"You know what, I think I've gotten everything I need, go ahead and let yourself in," He pulled his hand away as Rose stood up and trotted into the confinement; he looked stunned at her sudden change in demeanor.

"See ya around," She called out before meeting up with Giles and Deacon.

Deacon stared at her flushed face and grinned.

"You hit on him didn't you?" His grin pulled tighter as Giles caught on.

"Shut it," she hung her head in shame and Deacon placed an elbow over her shoulder.

"Oh Rosie. You're helpless."

She shook her head as she peered around to the pretty rooftops and the scraggly picket fences wringing them. "I didn't know what to do," she shook her head. "He was confusing, he kept changing his demeanor..."

"I noticed that," Giles murmured around a smile and a wave to a man in a suit ahead of them. "They placed someone inexperienced at the gate. We talk, we get the info and we get the fuck out of here."

"Sounds good to me," Rose smiled, fake and as plastic as those around her.


	5. Chapter 5

_**I know we aren't that far into the story, but updates have been changed to Fridays! (** when is possible **) for reasons...yeah, pretty sure its just reasons. I do know my lovely co author here is going back to school so I believe that is a factor.**_

 _FloodFeSTeR_

* * *

They all stink.

Okay, they don't really _stink_ but they do reek of lies and fake smiles.

Rose is uncomfortable here, she doesn't know what to do. They're all as fake as her bogus persona, but with different stories to tell, different backgrounds, less predictable. Were they all born here in this bonkers place, or were they born in the ruins like her? Did they snap somewhere down the road, or were they always this senseless?

Rose has a hard time telling, and when Deacon said he was unable get a read, that's bad news and has her on her toes.

He's a better liar, always has been, always will be.

"Lovely place ya' got here," Giles tucks his hands into his pockets as the patchwork man approaches them; he's shaking crumbs from the mustache of his untamed, furry face as he approaches, but Giles takes his hand anyway. "Names Parker, these are my guards." He gestured to Deacon and herself who had been a measly two steps behind the negotiating men.

The man over looked Deacon and gives Rose the once-over, chuckling as the man releases her brothers hand.

"Never trusted women as guards," _go fuck yourself you boneheaded crouton._ She narrowed her eyes at him and shifted her weight _._ "Either they got distracted, or were the distraction ya know what I mean," he chuckled again. "But welcome to Covenant, good sir. Finest settlement around. So you're a new trader around these parts?"

Her brother nodded. "Yeah, looking to set up at the bigger settlements around here. You, Sanctuary, the Slog - places like that."

"Not a city boy, are ya?" He eyed Giles up and down, weary to trust the newcomer.

A smug chuckle circled the two men. "No sir, Can't say that I am."

"Oh please, call me Jacob."

"I'd prefer to stick to titles," Giles said politely, a sympathetic and sheepish expression on his face. "It's nothing personal, my superiors just don't like me being unprofessional. Might give the company a bad name, you know how it is."

This _Jacob_ chortled, hand on his belly, the other waving at the air in front of him before he started walking towards the home settled in the back of the compound. "Oh boy, do I," he wiped at his eye, as though he had a tear. "So, from where do you fine folk hail?"

"Mojave," Giles piled up as they entered the building. "Cassidy's Caravans, started in the Hub and now we're here."

Jacob hummed, smoothing a hand down his buttons as he settled behind the desk in the center of the room. "You've come quite the ways," he commented.

Rose rubbed her arms as her brother and Jacob talked shop, looking over at the shrewd-faced woman sitting to her left, a tiny radio playing Travis' hesitant voice on the other end. There was a metal door Rose could see through to her right, one man curled up on a sleeping bag, the other looking bored as could be, resting in a metal chair. When he looked at her, she saw an odd look in his eye; she couldn't place it, but it didn't make her feel any better.

"So," Jacob's voice broke through her examination and Rose looked over, finding his eyes on her. "You're looking to establish a supply line here?"

"Yes sir," Giles nodded, hand on his thigh, other on the table. "Our boss is just looking to expand; the NCR has kind of put us in the shit-end of business as of late."

"Why not the bigger settlements," Jacob shrugged, apprehensive of their story, Rose could see. "Diamond City? You could have even set up supplies with the Brotherhood now that they're floating around the sky."

Giles shrugged. "Miss Cassidy likes to pander to the smaller people, the ones no one visits or thinks of. Lot more business that way."

"Fair point," Jacob paused, still cautious, and Rose was sweating. "I think we could work somethin' out, ma boy," but his voice wasn't of the cheery kind, it was a little tight. "I need to talk to some of the folks around here though, we don't really associate with bigger traders like you. More like the wondering, may-show kind of traders around here."

Giles smiled that charming smile of his. "Sure, I understand that."

"I'm glad," Jacob stood, and Giles did as well. "How about I personally set you up with a room tonight? Your guards can stay out on their posts."

Rose wanted to scream when Giles chuckled.

"Of course, let me get my things and I'll be back."

She and Deacon followed close behind Giles, quiet and calm, the professionals that they were. Deacon popped a round, pink piece of bubblegum into his mouth, offering the pack to Rose. She grabbed a piece, her teeth aching with the overload of sugar from such a small piece; she preferred a Mentat or a hit of Jet, but a sugar high would suffice. She couldn't afford to get sloppy on the job, she would be taken off, probably cast out if she made it home.

Killed if she didn't.

"What the actual fuck is going on," Rose hissed as Giles started untying their packs. "We didn't agree to separate!" She seethed through her teeth, worried about being alone with one of these people and blowing the whole operation.

Rose felt a hand on her shoulder and reached up to hold onto Deacon's hand. Giles sighed as he hefted his pack over his shoulder, giving Rose a sympathetic look; she didn't want that.

"We're playing a part, Rose, you're not a tourist -"

"But we always do it together," she shook her head. "We never separate."

"Well, we are now," Giles said firmly. "You two stay here with the Brahmin, apparently they move out that stupid desk and shit whenever the guards need a place to sleep. There are turrets watching and a dude with a missile launcher. You're safe, I'm inside, we got this. It's going to go smoothly, relax." Giles flashed them his famous captivating smile.

"I refuse to," Rose pouted.

Giles chuckled. "That's my girl."

Rose watched Giles brush past them, glaring at the ground and not his back. They suspected her already, she didn't need them really suspecting her; these people were squirrelly, isolated and afraid of everything around them.

"Come on," Deacon murmured as he watched the turret above their heads. "Let's crash, for an hour," He paused for a second. "We're delivering some goods to the Gunners across the pond."

Rose wheeled on Deacon with wide eyes, watching him lay down the mattress they were supposed to be sharing. "Excuse me?"

Deacon shrugged. "Boss wants us to deliver to em, so we deliver to em while he's talking to Jacob."

"Well this evening just keeps getting better," she grunted to herself as she plopped next to Deacon, snatching the blanket from him and rolling into a burrito.

"Hey!" He shivered. "I don't control who we sell to."

"Shack up with Scabs," her voice muffled from the quilt she stole.

Deacon smiled at his pouting partner before crossing his arms behind his head and quickly beginning to drift off. He understood how pissed off she was, he didn't control who they sold to though, and this was to establish their cover. Rose didn't like doing that, she always wanted to be the heavy when she wasn't that kind of material; if she would listen to him, she could be something truly great.

* * *

Roughly an hour had passed, the setting sun was long below the horizon and most of the small community had turned in for the night. It was quiet in the Wasteland, not even the Deathclaws had stirred yet, and they loved to prowl at night.

The sound of Deacon's growling snore had woken Rose from her peaceful slumber, at the perfect time as well judging by her scratchy watch on her wrist. She lifted her head while her hair went every direction apart from the direction she wanted it to. The groggy woman wiped the strain of saliva from the corner of her mouth before standing up and tossing the blanket over her partner's chilly body.

"I need to piss," she mumbled to herself before searching for a proper bathroom.

Luckily she was able to find an outhouse with a stained mirror, she could hardly make out her reflection between her poorly lit surroundings and the two-hundred-year old filth that had been caked on; but she managed to run a brush through her hair and apply a shaky layer of eyeliner. She stared at the battered stick smaller than her pinkie with a skeptical look, knowing soon she would be without it and she didn't know how she would make it.

Rose enjoyed makeup, not as much as those poster women, but she did like the way it sharpened or softened her features at her own will.

She exited the bathroom, adjusting her belt as she stared at the horizon; stars inched up through the trees, thick in strips and clusters, making Rose's mind wander. She would never get over the night sky, that people had once been floating through there. She sighed and jogged back to the gate, looking down at Deacon; he had curled into a ball of baldness and drool.

"D?" She shook him lightly with her boot but got no response. "Deacon," she dropped to her knees and patted the palm of her hand against the stubble peering through on his cheek.

"Uh," she slapped her hand away and turned on his side to continue his snore fest.

"Rude," she glared at him as she pinched his nostrils together, and covered his mouth with her other hand.

After a couple of quick seconds, he woke in a panic, limbs flailing around. "What the hell Rose," he snorted, adjusting his sunglasses; what douche where's sunglasses at night? Her douche, that's who.

"You didn't wake up," she shrugged.

"I had just gotten to sleep. You wouldn't stop touching me," he complained.

"Oh well. It's time to go," she smiled and jumped to her feet, offering Deacon a hand.

"Alright, meet me at the front gate, I need to take a leak," he gripped her hand firmly and hauled himself up.

Rose began making her way towards the rusted metal doors near the front to the establishment, trying to sneak out without disturbing any of the residents. The cat, Dora, was digging in the crops by the gate, eyeing her with big, green eyes as she crept towards it.

"Little late for a stroll don't ya think?" Swanson's thick accent broke the silence, Rose had the 10mm gun drawn and pointed towards the seemingly harmless doorman. "Whoa, whoa, I get it, you don't do curfews," Swanson had his hands raised defensively.

"Shit," Rose panted, lowering her gun. "Shouldn't sneak up on people like that," she warned, holstering the gun.

"Well, I'd say you're the one doing the sneaking, but you seem like the expert," he grinned, taking a seat behind his desk. "Do you mind if I ask where you're going?"

"Across the pond, we have some goods to deliver to a camp that's over there," Rose kept the detail about them being gunners to herself.

"Alright, you going out there by yourself?" He raised a brow in her direction.

"Wouldn't dream of it, my partners going to be joining me," she began tapping her foot impatiently; she hated idle chatter.

"Fella with the glasses? What's his name again?" Swanson began writing stuff down on a clipboard as her foot came to a halt.

She had remembered them discussing names earlier in the day, but she couldn't remember Deacon's undercover name for the life of her. There was no doubt in her mind that this was a test, this whole group of people probably sniffed out the weak link; being her.

"His name is-"

The metal door creaked open once again and Deacon appeared with a duffle bag tossed over his shoulder and a nasty look spread across his face.

"Sorry to bother, my ears were burnin," Deacon glanced between the two conversing with an overly convincing smile.

"No bother. You be safe out there," Swanson sent Deacon and Rose on their way.

Once the two were out of ear shot Deacon glared down at Rose.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled under her breath.

"I know under cover isn't your strong suit, but come on Rose! I used a damn easy name that I knew you would remember," Deacon huffed.

"I'm sorry!" She apologized again with a hint of annoyance in her voice. "What was it?"

"John," Deacon turned his eyes forward and continued walking ahead of her.

"You don't get to get pissy at me and then just walk away," she followed after him, raising her voice an octave. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean, that I'd remember the name _"John"?!_ "

"I just hope you'd remember the name of the man you've been fooling around with," Deacon spat again.

"What does that have to do with anything!" Rose shouted, missing the point.

"Just forget it, and keep your voice down, were almost there," Deacon walked ahead of her again, leaving her infuriated.

" _Fuck you!_ " She shouted again, picking up a good sized rock and sent it soaring towards Deacon's back.

"What the shit Rose!" He turned to face her. Although she couldn't see his eyes she felt them piercing through her.

"Are you jealous because you're like in love with me or something," Rose furrowed her brows, full of emotions.

"You know what. You are so god damn full of yourself." Deacon continued to stare through his companion, chewing on the inside of his check. "I can do this on my own. Just head back."

"Fine!" Rose yelled, clenching her fists and turning her back on Deacon and making her way back to the settlement.

As she continued to make her way to their resting spot she dabbed at the tears forming in her eyes. Deacon and her didn't have too many arguments, but when they did it would be yelling for a while, followed by tears, then silence, and eventually one of them would break and apologize first. They both hated being angry at each other, so their fights only lasted a few days at a time, but she had to be honest that rarely did Deacon start them.

As Rose continued her journey something caught her attention, successfully distracting her from her petty little tiff with her partner.

The older gentleman who appeared to be mayor of the minuscule town was climbing down a wall of rocks that lead to three tunnels hidden by the lake. Rose cocked her head and moved a little closer, almost able to hear him cursing softly to himself as he waded through knee-deep water with a crinkled nose. He disappeared through the middle pipe, which had begun to give off a soft, red glow across the water and Rose cocked her head.

"What the hell," she whispered, crouching down as to continue speculating on what he was up to.

After a few minutes had passed without him returning she decided to go in after him; she followed down the same trail of rocks as Jacob and dropped into the freezing lake. The radiation collected throughout the water began stinging at the pores of her skin and singing the hairs on her arms.

"Shit!" She cursed as she swam through the same tunnel hole as the shady mayor had traveled through.

This was dumb, this was so dumb, so incredibly dumb, no doubt Deacon was already looking for her after she had dropped into silence instead of petty, angry little comments. But she didn't have time to run to Deacon, call out his name, break cover, fuck up another part of their mission to establish cover - she could do this by herself anyway, she knew how to sneak around.

A blue metal door stopped the flow of water, Rose looked the door up and down, contemplating if it would be safer to get Deacon and Giles. _No, no something could happen and I won't fuck this up. Giles will have his cover blown if he just disappears in the middle of the night, and fuck Deacon at this particular moment..._

She placed a shaky hand over the rusted knob and swallowed hard, pushing down and pressing her weight against the cold metal.

The sewers were dimly lit, she had almost zero visibility as she journeyed on, readying her hand at her thigh for a quick draw. She took in deep breaths though her mouth, not being able to stomach the stench of whatever had died down here.

Finally there was an opening with light, and voices discussing business in hushed tones.

"A group of three dropped by today, one of them _has_ to be a synth!" Jacob's voice was bordering disgust and excitement.

"Well which one? We can't just test all three," another man spoke out, annoyance lingering in his voice.

"I'm not sure, the ring leader seems like a good bet, he's charming as all get out, but the chick that's traveling seems on edge; like she's hiding something. And the last guy just doesn't say much, he's stiff as a statue," Jacob explained.

"Without proof-"

The men stopped conversing as Rose looked down; noticing the ginormous shadow she was casting against the sewer wall.

"Aw fuck."

"Hey!" The unnamed man yelled, jumping down from his spot on the perch.

Rose turned to run, but her soaked clothing slowed her down, she was able to get a few seconds head start but that didn't help her in the least. The man reached for her, catching her in a headlock, cutting off her air supply. She kicked and thrashed in his arms, digging her nails in but he had on some sort of armor that it did no good against. The loud crash of water kicked up from her struggle was the loudest thing in her ears, the ominous figures crowding her making it even worse as she started to go limp.

"That's right, go to sleep," he whispered in her ear as her surroundings began to fade and eventually disappear all together.

* * *

 _ **Also, a thank you to the lovely people that have reviewed and faved and followed this story, its really appreciated. We're open to hearing any opinions of suggestions, just don't be a total dick about it m'kay? Some people go way too far and break our spirits.**_


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